


Unforgettable

by lilidelafield



Series: Katiya [4]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 09:23:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15264387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilidelafield/pseuds/lilidelafield
Summary: A one off story, written ages ago.Illya has been mourning the murder of his wife Claire for about three months, but still UNCLE's resident psych doctor refuses to allow him to return to full duty. Then someone new arrives in New York to re-open old wounds . . .





	Unforgettable

 

Prologue

An interminable bus ride over bumpy roads, narrow bends and terrifying and precipitous heights; a long boat journey with the inevitable storms and choppy seas, walking forever, occasionally hitching, but eventually the young woman with the auburn hair and the ragged grey dress covered with the old black shawl finally made it to Paris, having crossed many countries in her effort to reach her destination. All she had with her was a crumpled old photograph and a tiny, homemade teddy-bear, thread-bare and well hugged.

 

MFU

 

Napoleon Solo arrived in his office bright and early Monday morning, determined to show his partner that he was quite capable of getting out of bed at the crack of dawn, and of doing his own paperwork from time to time. All the same, as he opened the door and walked inside, he found Illya already installed, with a few pieces of paperwork to do in his in-box, and a tall pile already completed. Napoleon frowned, suspicious.

            “Illya, you finished all of your paperwork yesterday. Is that mine you are doing?”

Illya nodded without looking up.

            “I hate to seem ungrateful my friend, but shouldn’t you be still sitting at home eating a leisurely breakfast this time in the morning?”

            “Couldn’t sleep. Not hungry. Why are you here early?”

            “I came in early to make a start on my tall pile of paperwork. Seems you have beaten me to it.”

            “Almost done.”

            “Um…well, thank you. There is a danger I might get used to this, you know.”

            “Don’t. I would rather sleep, believe me.”

            “How long has it been since you slept a whole night through?”

            “Not since Claire’s death.”

Three months previously, Illya had stepped down as Number Two of Section Two and got married to a beautiful young Scottish girl called Claire Buchanan. THRUSH, however, had learned of the wedding and murdered the bride right after the ceremony. Illya was back in his previous position, but was still submerged in a world of black misery and grief which, although he was able to cast out of his mind through the daylight hours, still blighted his nights to the point that he awakened every morning wondering why he had bothered going to bed in the first place?

Doctor Fergus, The new doctor in the psych department had recently approved him for field duty, but was, to Illya’s irritation, temporarily keeping him on a short leash, aware of his insomnia; limiting his duty to cases that did not take him away from HQ for more than a few days. Therefore, for the time being, when his partner was sent on cases that dragged him across the globe, Illya was made to stay behind, fulfilling duties around the office and the labs, which did nothing to improve either his temper or his temperament. Napoleon was thus left at such times temporarily without his partner. Waverly called Napoleon into his office.

            “We have a new female agent coming to this office.” Waverly told him without preamble. “She is set up for section two, but for the time being she is having trouble reaching the regulation weight for female agents, and so is being temporarily assigned to section three. However, I think she would appreciate working alongside the CEA for the first week or two until her section chief returns from holiday.”

            “A section two and a section three partnered together? Yes sir.”

Waverly smiled at Solo’s puzzlement, but did not explain further. He picked up his pipe.

            “She is coming in on the afternoon flight from Paris, Mister Solo if you would be so good as to meet her at the airport. You are looking for a Miss Maya Karina.”

            “Yes, sir.”

Napoleon went in search of his partner, and found him just coming out of the showers after a workout in the gym.

            “Want to come along?” he asked, after explaining his errand. Illya looked confused.

            “Why do you need me to pick up a woman? You do it almost in your sleep every day.”

            “Yes, well, Waverly has assigned me to work with her until you are back on the job. I want her to have no illusions about pairing with me permanently. We are partners. You and me.”

            “Well you and I both know that, so why worry about it? Who is she anyway?”

            “She’s coming over from our office in Paris apparently. She walked in off the street three years ago, absolutely penniless and said she wanted to work for UNCLE.”

Illya’s eyebrows arched.

            “Seriously? What does Beldon think he’s doing taking in someone off the streets? She could be THRUSH.”

Napoleon shrugged.

            “No idea my friend. How would you like to come with me and try to unravel her mystery with me? Or are you too wrapped up in your paperwork?”

Illya threw his towel down.

            “That does it. I’m coming with you!”

Napoleon grinned at him.

            “Attaboy, Kuryakin! Let’s go!”

 

 

At the airport, Solo and Kuryakin waited in arrivals for their new agent. After a few minutes, the rush of passengers came flooding through, but no female passenger travelling alone.

            “Do you think she might have missed her flight?” Napoleon asked his partner in a low voice. Illya grinned, and opened his mouth to speak. Napoleon saw him stare and stiffen. He frowned worriedly.

            “Is everything all right?”

Illya looked as though he had seen a ghost.

            “Yes. Yes, fine.” He still looked unnervingly spooked, however, and when Napoleon followed his eye-line, he saw an auburn haired young woman dressed in a smart black trouser-suit, sensible shoes and round glasses with thick black rims. She was the only disembarking passenger that had apparently been travelling alone. He nudged Illya.

            “Do you know her?”

Illya pulled himself together and reached into his inner pocket and pulled out his glasses and put them on.

            “No, no. How could I? She must be our girl, she was alone.”

            “Well. let’s go and see, shall we?”

The young woman had dropped her suitcases on the floor by her feet and was peering into a small Compaq. Napoleon strode up to her.

            “Pardon me Miss, are you by any chance looking for your Uncle Alex?”

Startled, the young woman jumped, and nodded.

            “Yes, I was told that my cousin would pick me up.”

Grinning widely, Napoleon held out his hand.

            “Pleased to meet you. You are Miss Karina I presume. I am Napoleon Solo, and this is my partner…”

            “Illya Nikovich Kuryakin!” The girl exclaimed, her eyes wide.

Illya stepped forward, and kissed her hand.

            “Maya. It has been a very… _very_ long time!”

 

Napoleon Solo waited to be told the details during the drive back to HQ, but Illya had withdrawn into himself and was saying nothing. The young woman was friendly and chatted about everything they passed, but did not mention Illya at all. Finally, Napoleon found himself asking the question burning in his brain.

            “So how long have you and Illya known each other?”

The girl opened her mouth to answer, but Illya beat her to it.

            “Leave it Napoleon.”

That was that. During the next nine days, whilst he and Maya Karina were partnered, Napoleon learned that Maya was her real name, but that her second name had been changed when she was a child. He learned that she was originally from the Soviet Union, but had left there many years earlier. She had not been any more specific, and had artfully changed the subject each time it seemed that her senior agent was about to ask her more personal details.

What was it with these Russians and their secret pasts? Napoleon wondered to himself. Were they all secrecy freaks or something? That afternoon, he made his official report to Mister Waverly on the new Russian agent.

He had found Miss Karina to be coolly efficient, quiet and reserved, disinclined to talk about anything outside of the current mission, and decidedly chilly whenever Solo had tried to make friendly overtures to her. In his opinion she was an efficient and able agent, but her personal skills appeared to be nonexistent. He was prepared, for the time being, to put _that_ down to nerves or shyness. He cleared his throat.

            “Mister Waverly, is there any chance of my getting my own partner back full time?”

            “Certainly as soon as Doctor Fergus clears him for long haul missions.”

            “Sir you know that what is holding Illya back is being stuck back here with nothing happening.”

Waverly nodded, his face softening.

            “I know. But rules are rules. The call is down to the doctor to make, I’m afraid.”

Napoleon nodded.

            “Yes sir.”

 

Illya finished his workout in the gym, and showered briskly, and was startled in the act of dressing by a slight noise. He looked up and rolled his eyes.

            “Maya what are you doing in here?”

Maya’s mouth quirked.

            “Don’t tell me you have become shy in front of me? That never used to be a problem.”

            “That was a long time ago Maya. We were kids.”

She nodded.

            “That we were.” Her eyes took on a faraway look.

            “You saved my life that day. I might have died if you hadn’t…”

Illya shook his head.

            “Don’t!” he said sharply. Maya looked at him.

            “Why don’t you want to talk about it? What is it with you?”

            “The past is the past. It is gone. Dead. Won’t ever return. Life is now and the future.”

            “But Illya, the past is alive. It has to be. You are who and what you are because of it!  It’s true it can never return, and thank goodness for that, but I’d say you have a lot to be thankful for, as it has brought you here.”

Illya raised cold blue eyes to hers.

            “The past is full of barbs, Maya, sharp pointy things that penetrate deep and leave lasting hurts. It was hard enough living through it all once. To remember the past makes it come alive again for me. I’m not like you. My memory doesn’t fade with time like yours does. People like you and Napoleon are able to see the past through rose coloured glasses because the pain fades and dies. You just remember things that are comfortable. I remember every detail as though it was yesterday, and when it comes to mind, it still hurts as much as it did then. Please, Maya, drop it.”

Maya nodded contritely.

            “Yes, I remember. I suppose my being here is not helping, is it?  Would you rather I transferred somewhere else? Surely not every memory was bad?”

            “No, not all.”

            “All I really wanted to say was that I came here to see you again. To have a chance to reconnect with someone I have a past with. My fondest memories were when I ran into you and Mikhail. The three of us…”

Illya allowed himself to smile slightly.

            “Mikhail was more of a liability than a help, especially when…”

            “What did happen to him that day? I gather you found him?”

Illya shook his head.

“I didn’t see him for three days. When he finally reappeared, he asked me how I had managed to get myself beat up. Turns out he was making friends…”

Maya nodded.

            “I read the UNCLE reports about him and THRUSH. I couldn’t believe it when I realized who the report was referring to. That couldn’t have been…”

Illya turned tired blue eyes on her and shook his head.

            “Maya please, I can’t talk about that right now. I have enough to deal with here and now.”

She studied him and nodded sadly.

            “Be well, old friend.” She said softly, and crept away.

Tears were starting to her eyes as she reached the elevator, and she suppressed a groan when the door opened and Napoleon Solo walked in. He looked genuinely concerned.

            “Are you all right? Look, let me buy you a coffee…or even a tea in the commissary? Just a drink to cheer you up, as your boss.”

She nodded, not knowing how to refuse such a kind offer without sounding churlish, and she followed him down. He bought her a mug of tea, prepared Russian style, got himself a coffee and led her to a private table.

            “As your CEA miss Karina, you need to know I am concerned about you. You are a good agent, but you seem very sad, and also very alone. I know you think I’ve been trying to flirt with you or something, but that isn’t true. I really am concerned. We want you to be happy here. I’m sorry you’re not.”

            “Sorry.” Was all she could manage. He half smiled.

            “You’ve made it clear that it is none of my business, but I can’t help realizing that you and Illya go back a long way.”

She nodded.

            “A long way.”

            “Illya never talks about his past. I think in his case it is as much about survival as it is about privacy.”

She nodded.

            “He has just made that fact abundantly clear. Sometimes I need…I need to reconnect with someone. Illya happens to be my only past connection to be still living, and I cause him pain. Just looking at me seems to set it off.”

            “Well he’s had a bad time of it recently. THRUSH murdered his wife just three months ago.”

Maya looked shocked.

            “That was _Illya?_ I read the report, but it contained no names. I had no idea! Shot dead right after the ceremony?”

Napoleon nodded.

            “No wonder he’s overly sensitive to my presence right now.” She said, sadly. “He would do better getting his mind stuck in to something, rather than hanging around the office all the time. Illya always did have a problem with letting go of memories. His memory has always been rather persistent. His only release as I recall was to stay busy. Focus his mind on other things.”

            “Yes.” Napoleon agreed, “Only that doctor Fergus is not happy with his progress, and his keeping him on a very short leash.”

Maya stood up.

            “That is why you have been landed with me these last few days? I need to have a word with doctor Fergus.”

With that, she marched away, leaving Napoleon staring after her, open mouthed.

*

            “Miss Karina, why are you telling me this?”

Alexandra Fergus sat back in her chair and regarded the newest agent with narrowed eyes and a slight smile. Maya fought to keep her voice even.

            “Because I know him…or rather I used to know him very well, and the one thing I know about him more than anything else is that giving information to Illya is like carving it into solid rock. It is indelible. His memory never fades. He needs to keep himself busy in order to…” she faltered and fell silent as she realized that she was not telling the doctor anything new.

            “You already know?”

Fergus nodded, and leaned forward.

            “Miss Karina…may I call you Maya?”

            “Yes.”

            “Maya, I will not discuss Mister Kuryakin with you, however close you are or have been to him. It would be unethical, and he would be quite right never to trust me. People who come into this office need to know that anything they say to me will remain in this office and go no further.”

            “But a man is still hurting, and the one thing that would help him to get better is denied him, because you…”

Fergus got up and opened the door.

            “If you have a problem yourself, you are always welcome, but I have already told you, I will not discuss Mister Kuryakin or anyone else with you.”

Maya found herself outside the psychiatrist’s door, red faced and annoyed. Somehow though, oddly relieved. At least this doctor was not to be coerced into betraying a confidence. But how to persuade her to give Illya more freedom?

Late that afternoon, Maya was sitting alone in the commissary, nursing a mug of coffee and toying unenthusiastically with a bowl of soup, when a pleasant voice made her look up. It was doctor Fergus with a tray in her hands.

            “Mind if I join you for a bit?”

Maya shrugged, then nodded.

            “Please do.”

Fergus sat down and picked up her spoon and tasted the soup.

            “Hmmm, not bad.” She looked up and smiled.

            “Outside of my office, my name is Lexie.”

            “Doesn’t sound like the name of a psychiatrist. Aren’t you supposed to be called Judith or Margaret or Maude or something?”

Fergus grinned.

            “Or Alexandra? Lexie is less of a mouthful…less ancient sounding.”

            “Lexie, I did not come to see you to try and get you to break any confidences or anything. I am just worried about my friend, and I just know that being put back on full duty is what he needs, and…sorry.”

            “Maya, no disrespect intended, but I spent a lot of years studying the human condition, studying the way the mind works. The correct answer to a problem or a riddle might have the opposite effect if it is given at the wrong time or for the wrong reason.”

            “I don’t understand.”

            “Well you see Maya, there are many who have a serious misconception about my role here. A medical doctor has an array of medicines, plasters and splints that he uses to fix the body when it breaks or becomes sick. There are no such things available for a mind, or a soul. I do not have a cupboard full of medicines available. The only medicine that can help a mind heal is the person themselves. The biggest hurdle can often be a person’s own refusal to see they have a problem. Sometimes that realization is all the help they need. Other times they may need weeks or even months of talking or therapy before they begin to heal. In all cases though, the patients heal themselves. I am just here to assist, to help and gently guide them along the way.”

Maya stared down at her rapidly cooling soup. Fergus felt a little sorry for her.

            “I can see how fond you are of your friend Illya. How worried you are about him. Mister Solo is worried about him too. He agrees with you by the way, but you need to understand that there is more involved in helping a mind to heal than handing over a medicine or a therapy. And each person is different.”

            “Just tell me one thing then doctor. Will he be alright? In the end? Will Illya ever be able to talk about his past without reliving it? Will he get back into the field properly?”

            “I can’t answer those questions, Maya, without betraying a confidence. If you know him well, you should be able to answer them yourself.”

Maya nodded slowly, and watched as the doctor finished her meal, said goodbye and left the room. Somehow, she had hoped the doctor would be more forthcoming than that, but she knew that doctor Fergus was at least confident in her own judgement. That was that.

The following morning, Illya sat silent and morose in Fergus’ office. He had had another bad night, and was not in the mood to sit and talk about himself today.

            “People are becoming worried about you, Illya.”

            “Oh?”

That sparked a slight interest in him.

            “Who?”

            “Friends of yours. The general consensus is that I should send you straight off into the field, back to full status.”

            “It would help to keep my mind occupied.”

            “You are still not sleeping?”

            “Not very well.”

            “And you feel that having had no proper sleep since your wife’s death, being preoccupied with yourself and your problems and your desperation to get away from the office will be sufficient for you to give your partner the full backing he needs whilst on a mission of that type?”

Illya said nothing. Fergus sat back.

            “What are you not telling me, Illya?”

            “Nothing.”

Silence. Illya was annoyed. What was she after? What did she want him to tell her? He determined to say nothing. Finally, she spoke.

            “What was Claire wearing the third time you saw her?”

            “The third time? She was wearing a red wrap-over dress with a string of choker pearls and red shoes.”

            “What was her hair like the time before that?”

            “She was wearing it up in a coil on her head, and she had been in the wind, and half of it was starting to come down. She had untidy ringlets all round her face. It was very…”

Illya stopped himself, and looked up at the doctor.

            “Why are you asking me that?”

            “Tell me Illya…how long did you know her? When did you first meet her?”

            “Almost two years ago now.”

            “And after two years you remember details of hair and clothing in that detail? Isn’t that unusual?”

            “Not for me…” Illya began, then he looked up and saw the light in the doctor’s eyes. She smiled slightly.

            “Illya, we all remember details of people we love, especially when we lose them and have a reason to try and remember; but you didn’t have to try did you? You remembered without even having to think about it. Most people use memory aids to keep information that detailed in their memory. Do you always retain information like that? That much detail without even trying? Is there anything, any little detail that you have forgotten about Claire?”

He shook his head.

            “Nothing. I remember every detail. Even her smell is so clear, it’s like I was with her this morning.”

            “You never forget anything?”

            “Never. I remember everything. The past, like it happened yesterday.”

            “Even your childhood memories are so clear aren’t they Illya?”

He nodded.

            “I remember the way my mother screamed as she was being…I remember the sound of my blood thundering in my ears as I ran away, my brother Mika was right beside me. I remember the feel of the slime on my fingers as I hunted through the rubbish bins for something edible…I remember the first time I laid eyes on Maya. She was so little, skinny and unkempt she looked so like my little sister Masha the last time I saw her before the Nazis threw her into the ditch…”

He looked up at the doctor, and she saw wetness in his eyes.

            “I never forget anything, doctor. People envy me for having a perfect memory, but it is a curse, not a blessing. I can learn not to think about things, but I never forget them. All I need is for someone to ask me a question…or for a familiar face to turn up out of the blue and everything comes flooding back.”

Fergus nodded.

            “So then, perhaps we need to find another way to help you to deal with those bad memories? Otherwise you are running away all the time from people and places that remind you of bad times. You would be happier if we can help you to find some other way to reconcile yourself to those things. Not just refusing to think about them. Despite everything you have gone through in your past, Illya, you are a clever, kind and courageous man. The past has made you into the person everyone here at New York loves and admires.”

            “Maya said something like that yesterday.”

            “Yes. She spoke to me about how to help you.”

            “What did you tell her?”

Fergus smiled.

            “Nothing. Your memory is your greatest gift and also your greatest liability, isn’t it?”

            “Yes. Nothing ever softens with time like it does for most people.”

            “Well, now you have got that off your chest, Illya, we can set about creating ways to help you to help yourself.”

            “Is that what you have been waiting for? For me to tell you that about my memory?”

            “Not exactly, Illya. I already knew it. You had to pinpoint it yourself as a problem. After four months or so, most people would have been able to make a start in getting back to an almost normal day to day routine because the initial harshness of loss becomes softened eventually by other emotions that take over.”

            “But the harsh loss is still with me. That is why I am not sleeping.”

Fergus nodded.

            “Okay, I have some suggestions for you, things you can do to help you cope with memories that come up; not only about Claire but others too. You implement them as best you can and come back to see me this time next week and we will rate your progress. If we both feel that they are helping you, we can think then about restoring you to fully active status. But first things first, Illya. Let’s make a start…”


End file.
